Give It To Her

Sorry.

I couldn’t resist,
you know.

It seemed like such
a funny concept for
a post title.

I can’t help but wonder
how much she’d like
that plastic thing if
you were actually following
the bold print demand
on the ad .

Hmmmmm…..
and only
“…. five minutes does the job“.

Hardly seems worth
taking your shirt
and socks off for.

But if that’s too
fast for you,
I guess it’s a lucky thing
that there also seems
to be someone else
waiting in the wings.

And although she doesn’t
have morning breath,
she does have a terrible
habit of getting sticky stuff
all over the furniture. 

(well, now that I think
about it, so do I… )

Ahem.

About now,
I’m trying to figure out
just why this great
1900’s postcard reminds
me of the fact that old-timey boarding houses had signs
saying ‘No Eating In Rooms’ ?

Ba-Bop-Domp.

We do seem to be on an
ill-conceived advertising
trip this week, despite
my intentions to do
something fresher and
more original.

But, you know,
sometimes ‘MOR’ is less.

In other words,
the less ‘MOR’ the better.

Maybe I’m just confused.

I didn’t want to
be a blogger, anyway.

I wanted to be a lumberjack.
Leaping from tree to tr…..

Wait —

I’m pretty sure that
one’s already been done, too.

Damn.

 

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It’s What’s For Dinner

No,
I’m not
threatening you.

And I’m not
saying that
you really have
to eat any
of this awful
looking stuff….

it’s just another
one of my posts
(like this one)
about advertising
that’s supposed
to convince you that
something that would
otherwise make you
wanna wretch won’t
actually do that to you,
should you be a
cooperative enough
consumer to try the
recipe or product
in question.

I probably could have
said that in a simpler way,
if I had really thought
about it, but the sooner
I get away from these
things the better,
so I’m posting these
pretty much on the run.

Which is probably what
you’re gonna get if you’re
damn fool enough to
make any of this stuff.

Yuck-o.

Maybe folk’s ideas about
what does and does not
look appetizing has changed –

– – I dunno —

but if my Mom was
using these as examples ,

I have to wonder how
I even survived childhood.

It does explain an awful
lot about her cooking,
though.

I always thought it was
just cause she was Irish.

Oh, while I’m on the subject,
let me give you some advice –

– if you’re ever in Dublin,
and you see a Bacon
sandwich on the menu —
— don’t order it.

It’s not bacon —
it’s fucking ham.

I can’t understand how
an nice and otherwise
very civilized country
like Éire would
confuse the two, but…
those wonderful
damned Canadians
seem to make the
same mistake, so …

Hey, and another thing —

if you insist on going to
Cork and kissing the
Blarney Stone, don’t
wear the Irish green
tartan kilt you special
ordered for the trip.

You see, there’s this old guy
who has to support you
while you grab the bars
and flip yourself into the
correct and required
‘kiss somebody else’s ass’
position —

and what he’ll do
while your bollocks are
almost completely defenseless
is anybody’s business but mine.

Just sayin.

All I can tell you is you’ll
probably feel just as queasy
after that experience as
when first you read this post.

Which, obviously,
is sayin’ somethin.

Umm… I guess.

I dunno, now …

What the hell was I
talking about, anyway?

! HOY !

(Thanks to Mis Lucja 
for some of these images! )

.